


The Kids Aren't Alright

by morninglassofoj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood, Day 4, Gen, Tsukkiyama Week, kinda angsty, the great tsukishima brothers fiasco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morninglassofoj/pseuds/morninglassofoj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akiteru had always been there for Tsukki and Yamaguchi. He was a constant presence in their everyday lives. His smile seemed more pinched these days, and he's not really around as much, but surely it's just stress. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kids Aren't Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Tsukkiyama Week day 4: Childhood
> 
> I do so ever enjoy making Akiteru's lies slowly tear Kei apart while Yamaguchi watches. :)
> 
> Yes, the title is from Fall Out Boy again. I guess this one relates pretty well.

It hadn’t always been like this. His friend walked next to him out of the school, ghostly quiet at his side but for the faint sound of a bass line coming out of his headphones. Tadashi noticed his glasses had slid down to the tip of his nose, but he hadn’t bothered fixing them, his head tilted ever so slightly downward, rather than straight forward.  
With an unspoken understanding, the pair takes the turn to go to Tadashi’s house, rather than keeping straight like they normally do towards Tsukki’s. The front gate screeched on its hinges when they walked through, piercing the unusual quiet that had settled between them.  
While the two weren’t necessarily the most talkative of friends, there had always been at least a spotty conversation between them-much more dependent of Tadashi than Tsukki.  
But it had been like this for nearly a week, Tsukki silently following along while Tadashi walked on eggshells any time he opened his mouth. He shuddered to think that this could come to be their new normal.  
He remembered when they had first met, Tadashi crumbled on the dirty ground of the playground, bruises already forming on his abdomen from swift kicks laced with idle childhood cruelty, with Tsukki standing above him, his bullies sent running as if there were wild hounds at their heels. His face was stoic, scary at the time, but Tadashi had come to realize Tsukki’s face just did that.  
Except for when he was at home. His brother would pat him on the head, ruffling his slightly messy blond hair, and his face would light up in a smile so genuine Tadashi could hardly conceive of how it ever fell into a frown. Then his brother, Akiteru, would turn to the smaller boy, fixing him with a smile identical to his younger brother’s and resting a hand lightly on his shoulder, and he could instantly tell he was welcome in their home.  
The closer they grew, the more he saw of Akiteru. It could be as simple as the older boy standing at the gates of their school, waiting for them when they got out. He would be in the kitchen talking with his mother when they came over after school. On weekends, he would take the two boys in town to the arcade or to see a new movie. Akiteru was a constant presence.  
Tadashi had only had the privilege to going to one of his junior high volleyball games once, but he had quickly realized why the Tsukishima brothers were so taken with volleyball. Akiteru was the ace of his team, and Tadashi didn’t really understand what that meant at first, but the way Tsukki phrased it he could tell it was a big deal. Soon after that game, Tadashi had begun joining Tsukki on the evenings that he practiced volleyball with his brother.  
He wasn’t very good at it at first, but he improved, steadily, if slowly. But, with Akiteru’s encouraging smile with every learned move, whether failed or successful, he never worried about being as good as Tsukki or the other boys at their school’s club.  
He started high school two years later. Tsukki would always brag about how his brother was balancing being a starter of the volleyball team with college prep classes. He had been captain of his middle school team, after all, so of course he was a starter.  
Tsukki’s smile was still as bright as ever when he got home and was greeted by his brother. Tadashi trailed slightly behind as always, and he thought he saw the creases that formed around Akiteru’s eyes when he grinned at his little brother were a little more pinched than usual, his smile just a small bit tighter. He credited it to the heavier workload of high school classes, not to mention college prep as well. But he couldn’t really explain away the hushed tones of their mother coming from the kitchen after Akiteru told Tsukki all about how volleyball practice had been that day. He and the other starters were starting to really mesh together as a team, finally finding their rhythm. It was going well.  
But they never went to any of his games. Any time Tadashi would ask Tsukki about it, there’d be one reason or another that they shouldn’t come. They weren’t playing a very good team this week, the game wouldn’t be that exciting. They were trying some new strategies, they were complicated and not everyone got it yet. It wouldn’t be a good game; they would probably lose. Coach didn’t want any family in the stands; it could distract the players from playing their best. There was always a reason, and Tsukki and Tadashi just accepted it. Akiteru wouldn’t lie, after all.  
What time they lost in not seeing his games, he made up for on weekends that there weren’t practice matches or tournaments. He was free a lot more than in middle school, even with everything in his schedule. They would all go into town for a new dinosaur exhibit in the museum, and Tsukki’s eyes would be alight with fascination. Or there was a new movie out that Tadashi had absently mentioned looked good. He never missed a single one of their volleyball games, even if they were only in primary school, and he always had pointers for how they could improve, and plenty of smiles and high-fives when they won.  
Earlier this year, he had started his third and final year of high school; Tsukki and Tadashi had started their first year of junior high. Akiteru was the ace on his team again, and this time Tadashi understood how important that position was, and how heavy the responsibility must rest on his shoulders now. Still, they were not able to attend any of his games.  
Their junior high club was more advanced than their primary school club. Tsukki was a starter. He was an excellent middle blocker after all, even if most of it came from his already extreme difference in height from the rest of their team and most of the teams they faced. Tadashi was an alternate, and rarely played in a game, but he considered himself lucky to have gotten that far. There were plenty of other first years who didn’t even make it that far. He and Tsukki practiced harder outside of club, improving even faster than before, despite the fact that Akiteru rarely joined them anymore.  
The ace on their team was a third year. He was arrogant, and often lazy, believing that the mere title of ace granted all of the skills he needed. He wasn’t very good, and it was obvious he got on Tsukki’s nerves. Content to sit back and order the younger kids around, he didn’t seem to be much of an ace at all, in Tadashi’s opinion.  
Their captain wasn’t much better, and while he didn’t usually try to order Tsukki around (Tadashi had a hunch the third years were a little bit afraid of Tsukki, a comfortable foot taller than most of them), he was obviously unprepared for the role, and thought yelling could get him everywhere. But his receives were solid; he wanted to be a libero when he got to high school. What he lacked in leadership, he at least tried to make up for in keeping their defenses solid.  
Their setter was a shy second year and the ace yelled at him a lot. Something about his tosses didn’t please him, and he wasn’t willing to compromise. Often, the setter would try his absolute best to send him the toss he wanted, but it didn’t suit what he wanted, and he didn’t even try to spike it. Most matches ended with the ace yelling at the setter and the setter getting on the bus holding back tears.  
The rest of the team was made up of the one remaining third year, a hardworking wing spiker who was much more suited to the role of captain, but whose parents demanded he focus more on school. The last starter was a jumpy second year middle blocker, who meshed well with Tsukki’s blocks. He was the second tallest boy on the team, and he Tsukki were adept at blocking many spikes from teams, but they seemed to be the only two starters who managed to work together. Tadashi was the only first year alternate, with four other second years of varying levels of skills.  
They didn’t win very often.  
Akiteru didn’t make it to many of their games. When he did, it was never one of the ones Tadashi played in, and only once was it one they won. But he always found pointers for Tsukki, and ways Tadashi could learn from his senpai’s mistakes. There were a lot.  
Whenever they would come home after a match, asking Akiteru how his practice or game or tournament had gone, their mother always seemed to be a bit disappointed, but Tadashi didn’t know why. She would shoot small glares at Akiteru over dinner table.  
“Why can’t we come to one of your practices?” Tsukki asked one day “It would probably be a lot more helpful than our team’s practices! We’d learn a lot.”  
Tadashi saw Akiteru’s face freeze in shock before he smiled his signature, if slightly strained smile. High school must be hard. Tadashi wasn’t looking forward to it.  
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Kei.” He waved off his little brother’s suggestion.  
“Well, why not, Akiteru?” Their mother asked nonchalantly and Akiteru froze again, looking at his mother with a strange expression Tadashi would almost describe as akin to fear.  
“Umm, well,” he floundered, “Coach doesn’t let anyone except the team and the managers come to the practices. Too distracting, you know.” He said, turning to look at his dinner, fiddling a little with his noodles.  
Tadashi looked at Tsukki to see if he had noticed how strange Akiteru was acting, but his friend didn’t seem fazed. That or he hadn’t noticed.  
“That’s alright.” He quipped, even if he sounded a little disappointed. “I understand.”  
Tadashi looked between the three Tsukishimas, confused as to what he was missing. Their mother gave him a kind smile, her eyes just slightly sad, But, he took it as an assurance that nothing was wrong anyway, and returned to eating his food.  
As the end of the school year approached, the two younger boys’ club let out a few weeks before Akiteru’s, which let out the week before exams. At lunch one day, Tsukki brought up what the two thought was a wonderful idea.  
“Akiteru’s final high school tournament is in two weeks. He said it was a pretty big deal, something about qualifying for nationals. I think it would be great to surprise him. We could come to the first match and leave. I know Coach Ukai doesn’t like having families in the stands, but it would be great to see him play and cheer him on one last time, don’t you think?” he suggested, excitedly.  
Tadashi wholeheartedly agreed, and when the two had asked Tsukki’s mom to drive them so they could surprise Akiteru, she had seemed pained, refusing to drive them. They had turned to Tadashi’s mother, who had heard a lot about how amazing Tsukki’s older brother was from Tadashi, and she agreed immediately.  
They hadn’t told Akiteru, as planned, instead tittering excitedly whenever Tadashi came over for dinner and Akiteru mentioned the Spring Interhighs. If Tsukki’s mom suspected anything, she didn’t say anything, and the two boys felt quite pleased with themselves for being so sneaky.  
When the day of the match finally came, Tadashi’s mom dropped them off at the stadium, saying she’d be back to pick them up when the match was over. The two boys wandered into the stadium and followed the signs that led to the seats that looked over the court Karasuno would be playing on. They kept their eyes peeled as they did for orange and black uniforms and blond hair, but didn’t see Akiteru.  
When they got to the stands, they were both surprised to find many families there cheering their sons on, little siblings in tow. Tadashi looked at Tsukki questioningly, but he just had a confused frown on his face, leading Tadashi over to the bleachers near the appropriate court. They were behind quite a few people taller than them, so their line of sight wasn’t as clear as they would have liked, but it didn’t matter. They would still be able to see the match.  
The teams filed out, and began their respective warm ups. Tadashi looked around frantically for Akiteru. He had never told the two what his jersey number was, so instead he stood on his tip toes, searching in his limited sight. Tsukki had a better viewpoint, but even he didn’t have a perfect view.  
The warm up time ended with a loud whistle blow. The teams grabbed water, then lined up, but Tadashi still couldn’t see Akiteru.  
“Tsukki, I-“ he began, suddenly cut off by a loud gasp from his friend. Following his line of sight, he looked over to the opposite side and was confused to see Akiteru in the stands, cheering on his team with the rest of the team that weren’t starters or alternates.  
“Tsukki, why isn’t Akiteru playing? Isn’t he a regular, I thought he said he was a starter?” he asked, terrified of the suddenly feral scowl on his best friend’s face.  
“He isn’t.” Tsukki snarled, and stormed out of the stands. Tadashi hazarded one last glance at Akiteru, catching the older boy’s horrified expression fixed at the spot in the stands Tsukki had just occupied. Tadashi shook his head, still not understanding, but followed Tsukki’s brisk pace out of the stadium.  
When he finally caught up to him, Tsukki was standing outside the stadium, jaw clenched and hands tight in fists against his side, looking ready to crumble in on himself. He wouldn’t answer any of Tadashi’s questions, so he hurriedly dialed his mother’s number. She hadn’t gotten very far, so she turned right around to pick the boys up. One look told her not to ask any questions, and the drive home was eerily silent.  
That was a week ago. Tadashi’s mother had explained what happened to him, and he stopped asking Tsukki questions. They still hung out during lunch, and after school, but now they went over to Tadashi’s house instead, and their walks were uneventful and empty of their usual banter.  
They climbed the stairs to Tadashi’s room, and sat down on the floor to work on their homework together. They both mostly understood the curriculum covered in class, and only spoke for clarification on the instructions on a problem, or to check an answer one wasn’t sure about.  
Tadashi wasn’t sure what prompted him to look up at his friend. There wasn’t a telltale sniff or anything, but when he looked up at Tsukki, his hand was still on his paper, not forming answers, but trembling, and there were tears flowing down his face and fogging up his glasses, which still sat low on his face.  
He watched his friend for a moment before reaching out a comforting hand and placing it on his friend’s shoulder, only to have it shrugged off.  
“…Tsukki?” he asked cautiously, the obvious question unspoken but still heard.  
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” He snapped in a choked voice, and returning to his homework, his hand busying itself with writing down answers again. The tears continued to flow, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. Probably because that would involve actually acknowledging that he was crying.  
Tadashi tried to go back to focusing on his homework as well, but he still finished thirty minutes after his friend, who had turned to Tadashi’s bookshelf, picking a random book and beginning to read through it as a distraction, and his tears eventually slowed to a stop. The book was the third in a series Tsukki hadn’t started at all, but Tadashi didn’t think it would be wise to mention it.  
He placed his completed homework back in his backpack and sat down next to his friend, who was still stubbornly reading the book he had no idea what was going on in.  
“I’m,” He heard Tsukki whisper, “I’m sorry I’m being so pathetic.”  
Tadashi traps his best friend in a tight hug, clasping his arms behind Tsukki’s back.  
“I’m sorry too, Tsukki,” he whispers, keeping his arms where they were, despite Tsukki’s uncomfortable squirming.  
“What? Why? You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” He asked, genuinely confused.  
Tadashi hugged him tighter. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry that it happened, and sorry that it hurt you.”  
Tsukki sighed, relaxing into the tight embrace and bringing his arms up around Tadashi as well, reciprocating the hug.  
Things wouldn’t be back to normal for a while, but they both sat there, content in the fact that it would one day. They wouldn’t always be aching from the betrayal of someone they so looked up to; They wouldn’t always walk home in silence. Someday, they would return to how they always had been, and they would both be waiting for the other when they got there.

**Author's Note:**

> I really am sorry for my inability to grasp AO3 formatting.


End file.
